DAY 3: 4 February
I’m going a little too fast this morning and decide to drop the mizzen. Not that it helps, because even at 6.5 knots I’ll be arriving in Bonaire in the dark now. I fiddle with the sails until I get Guppy’s speed down to a nice 5.5 knots.
The sun is climbing and it’s beginning to be very hot. In the aft cabin I check to see that the fenders and mooring lines aren’t buried under too much mess. It’s not too bad and I have them to hand. It’s happened that I’ve come into a harbour after a long crossing and been unable to find or reach the lines and fenders that I urgently needed. That was a lesson to me. The wind drops gradually. I send Dad a text message that it’ll probably stay this way until morning, and reset the mizzen. It’s only half past four, but I’m really hungry and make myself a meal.
DAY 4: 5 February
I’m not getting much sleep tonight. I’m nearing land and would prefer to keep watch, but we’re still 40 miles off so I try to sleep. At 06.00 the first light comes into sight. I don’t see any land, only a light; the lighthouse on the south point looks as though it’s standing in the water.
When I round the south point at dawn at a distance of 3 miles, I see a strip of land. Guppy is sailing solely on the genoa. At 08.00, it’s light and I still have 5 miles to go. At 09.00, I’m lying in front of a narrow harbour entrance and call the harbour master, Gerard van Erp, on the VHF. The harbour entrance is very shallow and he pilots me across it in his RIB. I thought I would be able to navigate with my plotter, but when I look at it I see that Guppy is going over land!
Bonaire
The harbour at the Plaza Resort is very full and Guppy is tied up alongside another yacht. That’s good as it gives me more privacy. Gerard appears to live on a big boat in the harbour, and I go and eat a croissant with cheese with him and meet his family; his wife, Anneke, and children Laura (13) and Marijn (15). He then shows me around the hotel complex that includes the harbour. I see iguanas everywhere, some of them as big as dachshunds.
After a bit of rest, I set to work scrubbing the bird shit off the deck, and that evening I go to eat pizza with Gerard and his family. I haven’t had pizza in a while, so I really enjoy it. I get back fairly early and try to get some sleep, but the mosquitos make it almost impossible. I flap my arms around to swat them and tell them to try someone else’s blood, but nothing helps. In the end, I attach the nylon wind catcher to the front hatch and then lie right under it on top of some sails, spare parts, emergency rations and some other stuff. It’s not very comfortable, but the mosquitos stay away from the wind that blows over me and I manage to fall asleep fairly quickly.
I wake up to the sound of someone calling my name out loud. When I eventually stick my head through the hatch, I can’t see anyone. An hour later there’s someone on the jetty again. Argh, the continuous calling of my name is beginning to get on my nerves! I finish my schoolwork and check my email. There’s an invitation to go to the HISWA water sport fair (the annual boat fair in Amsterdam) that runs from the first to the sixth of March. I don’t really feel like being in the limelight again, but on the other hand it may be a good opportunity for some clarity on the subject of my voyage and to have my own say about it all. I then make a start on installing my new SSB radio set. It turns out to be more work than I thought, despite the fact that the preparation has already been done. The antenna and most of the cables were installed in the Netherlands. It looks like I’m going to have to ask Gerard if he knows anyone who is familiar with these things. The instructions for the wiring between the enormous transmitter, SSB radio and modem aren’t very clear, and joining up the wrong wires could mean the end of my SSB. Gerard tells me he knows someone who can help. I contact Hans, Gerard’s expert, who assures me he’ll be able to fix it in a couple of days’ time.
In the meantime, the chaos on Guppy is driving me nuts and I make a serious plan called ‘Tidy and Organise’. First I clean out the galley and do all the dishes. Then I start on the fore cabin, salon and the aft cabin. At the end of the day Guppy smells fresh and I’m exhausted, but order has been restored on board and that feels wonderful.
I’m still thinking about the proposal from the HISWA boat fair, and after an exchange of emails we have sorted things out. I’m off to the Netherlands in a couple of weeks.
I heard today that the Chief of Staff at the maritime NATO headquarters in England, Hank Ort, has warned yachts not to sail through the Gulf of Aden. He said no one could count on protection against pirates, and mentioned me in particular. He was speaking in response to a request for support by 30 yachts that wanted to sail through this area in convoy. I’m sorry that NATO no longer offers protection for small boats and only helps big ships. I don’t think it would be too much trouble just to be on standby should a convoy of yachts call for help. It’s a pity, even bizarre, that my name becomes associated with anything nautical. Why, I wonder? What I’m doing may be unusual at my age, something I’m becoming aware of myself, but why there’s so much media attention on me is something I’ve never understood. The fact that a bird shitting all over Guppy makes the news on the internet the next day is too crazy for words. And so is the fact that I’m mentioned in a report about piracy in the Gulf of Aden when there are hundreds of other sailors out there . . . I happened to speak to some New Zealanders who sailed through the Red Sea just yesterday and they said nothing about pirates. I’m not saying that they don’t exist, but it’s not that you have a 100 per cent chance of being attacked when you sail through this region. And yes, potentially, there’s danger everywhere.
I’ve spent the whole morning doing schoolwork, answering my emails, writing up my blog and other duties. I’m a little stuck where chemistry is concerned. Gerard attempts to help me, but even he can’t quite figure it out . . . But he can help me get rid of all the media mosquitos that plague me daily. He organises a media conference at which journalists get the opportunity to ask all their questions in one go and then leave me alone — and it works!
When I get back to Guppy, a boy and a girl who are sailing with their parents on a Canadian yacht approach me looking for people their own age. They look friendly and I decide to go with them to their catamaran. This way, I meet Joey and Olivia. We watch a surfing movie, talk a lot and visit the neighbours, who are New Zealanders and have just made popcorn which we wolf down. . .
I’ve promised to be back in time to join Gerard, Anneke, Marijn and Laura for a barbecue on the beach. We’re sitting near a local band that’s playing on steel drums, which makes it impossible to hold a conversation, but they’re not bad. During the barbecue, I get to meet Caecilia and Jan Godschalx, a Dutch couple who come over to enjoy the sun every year. I visit the Washington Slagbaai Park with them the next day. They’ve hired a car, and the four of us, including Gerard, set off. I learn that some trees are unable to grow vertically because of the wind, so they are sometimes only 2 metres high but 30 metres in length as they grow over the ground. I also learn that flamingos here are pink because they eat shrimp, and that iguanas have a taste for biscuits and creep onto you as soon as you put a piece in your lap. All very informative. That evening I watch a violent movie on Rhythm with Joey and Olivia. I don’t really like it, but I enjoy the company.
I have a bicycle on loan and it’s wonderful to go for a ride. In the Netherlands, I had to cycle 12 kilometres to school and back again. I haven’t even cycled more than 5 kilometres this year and that’s got to change!
My gran and granddad arrive today and I’m waiting for their plane from the beach. I’ll see them land from here. The plane flies over at 18.00, and Gerard and I walk to the airport. They’re happy to see me again, and, after eating a pizza together, we take them to their apartment. The next day Gran, Granddad, Gerard and I do a cycle tour of the island. Gerard has been involved with nature conservation on the island for a long time and knows everything about the nature and geology of the island. He takes us over a couple of hills to a big lake in a nature reserve. There are usually hundreds of fl
amingos in this area, but this morning we see only two . . . It starts to rain on the last leg of our journey. The bicycles are hastily packed into the car and they all dive inside; anyone would think they were made of sugar that melts in the rain . . . I tell them that’s it’s not that bad and carry on cycling as we are now going downhill. It rains harder and harder, and within two minutes I’m soaked, but it’s so hot that it’s actually quite pleasant. We end up in a restaurant with traditional food in Ricon where ‘big mammas’ conjure up delicious rice dishes with goat and fish.
The next day, I take a wonderful kayak trip through the mangrove swamps; the nursery of the ocean. It’s a special place in which I find parrotfish, flamingos and a barracuda that has apparently lost its way. We drive back to the harbour via a narrow sand road and I’m sitting in the back of the vehicle when I see an enormous sand truck bearing down on us in a cloud of dust; it’s too late to do anything and the truck crashes into us. I bump my head, but don’t have any other injuries except a painful headache. Suzanne and Gerard, sitting in the front, also seem to be OK. The truck driver shouts that neither his brakes nor his hooter work and then starts swearing in Papiamento. After waiting for an hour in the boiling sun, we are finally fetched by Anneke and Marijn, who take me to the first-aid post for a check-up, just in case. After waiting a very long time, we find out that there’s no doctor present. Eventually we seek out a general practitioner who speaks only Spanish and Papiamento. Fortunately, Anneke and Marijn speak both these languages. Anyway, it’s now three hours since the accident and I’m finally standing at reception with some pills for the swelling and headache. I’m told to take some rest and to come back if I feel nauseous or if the headache persists. I’m feeling much better already; I’ll just lie down and take a break . . . The worst part was the shock, but my head is still on my shoulders and I’m not squinting or seeing double.
It’s only just dawning on me that we could all have died. I wasn’t wearing a seat belt in the back of the car when the accident occurred. It’s thanks to Gerard, who put his foot down on the accelerator instead of braking, that the impact was less serious than it could have been, otherwise we would all have been killed! You should have seen the car; both back wheels were standing out at different angles. Poor Gerard . . . Until yesterday he had been the proud owner of the only electric car on the island. His car is now a total wreck.
I’m standing at the airport today to welcome Dad and my sister, Kim. I spot them immediately and wave madly. They eventually see that it’s me and wave back. It takes a while before they make their way through the crowd and it’s wonderful to see them again. They’ll be staying with me on board Guppy for a week. The next morning, Dad and Kim are awake very early. It’s the time difference of five hours between the two countries, of course. I have to get used to the chatter in the early morning and can forget about waking up gradually while they are here. The day starts with rain; lots and lots of rain . . . The hatches are open and the wind catcher has been catching water rather than wind, so everything is wet inside. I try to push it outside and close the hatch, but this only results in an extra pool of water. Dad starts seeing to a couple of chores on Guppy, and Kim and I try to make a kneeboard out of a bodyboard and a piece of wood. My dinghy with its 6-horsepower Mercury motor soon has us planing behind the boat. Kim is having a great time on Bonaire and enjoying the heat. After the kneeboarding, she invents another game; it’s swinging around Guppy from a rope attached to the top of the mast . . . My sister, the circus artist!
Within a day, the cockpit is full of rubbish and it’s a mess inside. It takes some getting used to having three people on board, including a sister who creates havoc. It’s also a bit unreal to have them both here with me. It’s as though I’m watching a movie that’s in fast-forward mode. That night we make pancakes and watch a movie. I take a break and enjoy Dad and Kim’s company. We regularly visit Gran and Granddad, who are staying 2 kilometres up the road in their apartment, and we take a trip to the former slave quarters in their rental car. The days fly past. We swim and snorkel, but I have a bad headache every time I dive underwater. We also go sailing on Gerard’s big yacht. Everybody loves it, except my little sister, who is seasick; she’s too much of a landlubber. But she’s keen to go sailing on the inflatable catamaran that we borrow every day. The Minicat is amazing and we scoot across the sea from Bonaire to the island just off the coast called Little Bonaire almost every day.
Unfortunately, it’s still the rainy season on Bonaire and it continues to rain really hard. Our canoe trip to the mangrove swamp is consequently cancelled and so is our plan for a barbecue. Despite this, we have a good time on Guppy.
Tomorrow Kim has to go home on her own as she needs to get back to school. After she leaves, I still have a few days with my dad to check and repair a few things on Guppy. And then I leave for the Netherlands. How strange it will be to be there for a week! I’m looking forward to the HISWA boat fair but not to the cold. I’m told that temperatures are around freezing point and that there’s snow from time to time. Brrr . . .
Dad and I wait at the airport until Kim’s plane departs. The flight is delayed and we spend three hours staring at the landing strip until she’s able to board. Afterwards, she told us that she had the misfortune to sit next to a teacher she knew from school who had spent her holiday on Bonaire. Poor Kim! When Dad and I get back to Guppy, I notice that Kim has forgotten her coat. I quickly email Mum to take an extra coat to the airport when she fetches Kim at Schiphol. Hopefully, she’ll receive the email in time.
A few days later, I’m standing at the airport for my own flight. When we’ve taken off and I look through the window, I find myself thinking of the person who was my heroine at the age of 10, Tania Aebi. She sailed solo around the world from 1985 to 1987 and saw and learnt so much about the world. I know I’m also going to learn a lot on this voyage, about myself, too, and that it will change me in a positive way. This adventure that I want to have with myself is so exciting.
It’s dark and below me I see the lights of England. In an hour’s time, after a flight of eight hours, I’ll be back in the Netherlands. To think that it took me half a year to get to Bonaire from there! When I get to Schiphol Airport, my feet are freezing even though I’ve taken care to wear warm shoes. I manage to get my torn genoa, which I’ve brought with me to get repaired, through Customs. I then try to get my mobile phone to work and phone my friend Suzanne. She lives close to Amsterdam and it makes sense for me to stay with her. It’ll also be much nicer than the hotel room offered to me by the HISWA boat show organisers. My mum lives miles off in Friesland, in the north of the Netherlands, and the rest of my family is still on Bonaire. My body receives a second shock when I go outdoors and feel how cold it really is. Oh, my God!
From Amsterdam we drive to Lelystad to drop my sail off for repairs. Everything feels strange yet familiar. The clouds, the cold, the trains, cars, motorways and high-rise buildings.
That evening, Suzanne cooks pancakes for me . . . As though I haven’t had any in ages. Her five-year-old daughter, Sofie, is very happy to see me. I’m sharing a room with her and I am immediately her new best friend. Every time she gets a chance, she’s either on top of me or next to me, talking 10 to the dozen. She’s so sweet, I just have to laugh. That night I go to sleep early, thanks to my jetlag. In the meantime, my phone rings non-stop and my mail box fills with interview requests from television, radio, newspaper and magazines. From Jensen to De Wereld Draait Door (both highly-rated TV shows in the Netherlands), they all want me as their studio guest. But I don’t even know who Matthijs van Nieuwkerk (a popular Dutch TV show host) is! That evening I follow Suzanne’s advice and take a look at his programme, but can’t really see myself sitting in his show. What do they expect me to do there and why feature me in a television programme? I decide to give interviews only at the HISWA boat fair. Besides that I only want to make one public appearance and that’s a lecture I’ve promised to give for the Ijmuiden Sailing Association.
At the back of the boat fair they’ve constructed a pool in which some boats are floating. Together with a primary school pupil from Amsterdam, I step into a boat that’s been baptised Guppy. Olympic sailing champion Marcelien de Koning interviews me on the water while I sail to the middle of the pool and cut a ribbon to release a number of balloons. It’s the official opening of the HISWA children’s pavilion.
I have a busy schedule at the boat fair. In the mornings I give a presentation at the sailing auditorium, and in the afternoon I give sailing lessons to children in the pool. I sign the book that my gran has published about me, and today I give interviews in between my other commitments. My jaw is soon sore from talking and laughing.
I have no problem giving the presentations and I’m glad to notice that people’s opinions about me have changed. The sailing auditorium is packed for my presentations, and people are no longer critical about me; just interested in my story. I finish giving my sailing lessons and then have time to stroll through the boat fair myself. Many of my friends have come to the event to see me. They’ve changed, and so have I probably. We talk about things in general and I soon notice how I’ve fallen behind on all the news since my departure on 4 August last year.
My lecture to the yachties at the Ijmuiden Yacht Club is special and teaches me a lot. In my preparation the evening before, I worked until the early hours of the morning to make a nice PowerPoint presentation with lots of photographs of my voyage so far. I didn’t have a clue how to use PowerPoint when I started out, but I certainly do now. I think that the presentation with photographs and a few notes on paper will suffice, but when I see the crowd waiting for me in the auditorium, I get quite nervous. I rattle off my presentation far too quickly and, after 20 minutes, notice that I’m through more than half of my material. Suzanne is sitting in the front row and makes frantic gestures for me to slow down. I decide to read them an excerpt from the book I’m writing; the bit about the storm on the Atlantic Ocean. After the interval, people are invited to ask me questions and there’s a virtual flood of them! All in all it’s a good experience to stand before an audience of genuine sailing enthusiasts and give them a talk. I get the impression that people are more positively disposed towards my voyage than they were when I started out. That’s something I need to get used to.
One Girl One Dream Page 13
